


John Takes His Vengeance on Paul

by waveofahand



Series: 30 Second Fanfics [2]
Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 30 Second Fanfic, It's a little dirty, M/M, Trapped Paul McCartney, Vengeful John Lennon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 17:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20451104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waveofahand/pseuds/waveofahand
Summary: The Beatles are getting ready for yet another long press conference and John sees an opportunity to get back at Paul for all the times he's left him squirming in public.





	John Takes His Vengeance on Paul

**Author's Note:**

> 30 Second Fanfics are quick McLennon pieces all based on photos found around the internet, so pictures are necessary really add to the story. Dedicated to @Lynzee005, who has been an inspiration for my writing and so wonderfully encouraging!

“Hello, my beauty,” John brought his lips near to Paul’s ear and whispered softly, careful that no microphones should pick up any part of the message he meant to deliver to his partner. “Are you ready for your pretty bottom to squirm in your seat a little? Hmm? Because I’ve been longing to give you a taste of your own medicine, put you through a little bit of the intentional hell you’ve put me through now and then, just because you thought you could.”   
  
Paul’s head snapped up. “What are you on about, John?” He whispered back warily, barely moving his lips. “I never…”   
  
“Oh, but you did, Bunny, you _have_! There was that time the BBC asked you to put your hands back on the table while we were on tv, but you but _**[you wouldn’t let go of my thigh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20451650)**_, remember that? Or, you know, the time at the Help! premier, when we were [_right** in front of Princess Margaret**_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20450879)and you made me blush down to my toes? Ringing a bell for you, now, love?” John watched as understanding dawned in Paul’s eyes; he smiled wickedly as the bassist sat, ramrod straight.

“What’re you gonna do?” Paul murmured, trying to sound unperturbed. “No TV cameras here, no princesses around…”

“_YOU’RE PRINCESS_, baby, as you so emphatically insisted at that premier. And I’m a mere jester, a court musician here to play with you, to serenade you, to AMUSE you, isn’t that true, my love? So, let me ask, what would you prefer this afternoon as I sit beside you? Would you like me to accidentally knock your bracelet off and then thoughtlessly read the inscription on the back as I re-attach it to your lovely wrist?” John frowned in thought, “Remind me again, because I can be so forgetful, somtimes…does that inscription read ‘_I Fell_’ or ‘_And I Love Him_?’ I wonder how Daddy, or pretty little Jane, would like to see those headlines, love?”  
  
“Yer a swine, Lennon,” Paul whispered, his tension rising.   
  
“My line, hon, _Hard Day’s Night_, but you can borrow it. Are you having a _hard_ day, today? A hard day yet? Would you like some help with that?”  
  
“For God’s sake, John, sit down!”

“I’d love to, Macca, shall I climb in your lap? I always like that, and you like me there. But no, that might be rude to the assembly, don’t you think? What if I just slip one hand beneath the table and do a little spider walk across your thigh? You know how much spiders like to catch flies…I bet my spider could catch a fast hold on yours…”

John marveled at how quickly Paul’s flush rose, his face burning scarlet at a handful of teasing words. The younger man’s lips were compressed into a thin line as he suppressed a low moan and stared straight ahead, his dark eyes sparking, his hips shifting behind the skirted table.

“Aw, look at you, my randy dreamboat, are you feverish? All pretty and pink and hot to trot. And that only took what, 30 seconds? And I haven’t even touched you yet?”

Paul bit his bottom lip and sighed meaningfully, still refusing to look at his tormentor. John leaned in a bit more, whispering directly into Paul’s ear, “And Eppy says we won’t be done here for, oh…at least an _hour_, Paulie love. My hand. Your fly. One hour.”

A small moan escaped Paul’s lips. “John. Mercy. Stop.” 

John’s grin could not have been more angelic as he took his seat and looked out at the gaggle of reporters, their pens and cameras at the ready. 

“And then, Macca,” he said, _sotto voce_, as his fingertips grazed Paul’s left thigh, “just think…you’ll have to _stand up_.”


End file.
